Dromund Kaas The Gray Flute Tavern 40 ABY
The hot sticky air of The Gray Flute Tavern could only be made more bearable by drinking liquor to numb the sense and dull the pain of any sorrow being on the damned planet of Dromund Kaas. Purid jungles laid just out of reach from the tavern with nagging and snarled swamps intermingled, making the humidity of the planet worse with time. Most visitors to the planet made their way on for whatever job and quickly left, never wishing to remain for long. Outside of the tavern were many groups of ysalamiri like creatures which would normally slithered out from the ruined temples and destroyed imperial buildings.
Just within the focus of this scene, the tavern, sat a few noticeable strange visitors, many of which did not appear to be characteristic of the planet. A elegant Echani woman and a stern, stoic Dashade were just to the right of the entrance within a guest room as a Bothan man stood behind the counter, dusting off the glass within his clawed hand just in front of the entrance.
Mistress Felaeon, the delicate Echani woman, is seated just within a small room enjoying a hot tea as she notices a collective group of people stepping up towards her table with a questioning gaze.
“Felaeon,” she says before anyone can address her first. Her hand soft yet sure brings a glass of warmed milk-tea to her lips and after she sips enough to wet her lips, she speaks again. “I take it that you are all here to rescue the poor doctor and his workers.”
(Message deleted)
Vez hovered back at the bar. As much as she enjoyed the suppressed look of panic on Turel’s face whenever she stepped up to handle negotiations, the Mirialan had to admit that sometimes it was better to let the old people do the talking. She took a sip of ‘the special’ — whatever hellish concoction the bartender had poured her for two credits — and wrinkled her nose as it burned its way down her throat.
How did I used to drink this druk? she asked herself.
You used to do a lot of spice, she answered.
Oh. Right.
Vez was trying to keep an eye out for trouble and get a good read on the situation, but Dromund Kaas put her on edge. The clinging humidity seemed to exhaust her the second they stepped out of the ship, and the penetrating dark side aura of the planet gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. And she really did not like the vibe she was getting from the big purple thing lurking with Felaeon when they arrived.
“Marick, I not going for clan or anything of import. Is nothing. Is just.. personal.”
The R of his name rolled off of Socorra’s tongue as natural as breathing, but it was even more pronounced as if said in a plead or scold - with the harsh accent sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. The woman cinched her utility belt and made last second checks to her gear outside the cantina, particularly the blades; she hadn’t used any in nearly a decade and just having them on her belt felt off. Socks was also stalling for more time to convince the half-Hapan to go back home. Begging, bribing and bargaining didn’t pan out, it was down to petulance.
“You only know I going because I had to borrow sharpen stone.”
“Yes, and since talking you out of it wasn’t an option,” Marick countered, and then quietly gestured to where they both now stood on Dromond Kaas.
He could not remember the last time he had been to the planet, but echoes of the Dark Crusade lingered in the back of his mind. Either way, Socorra had wanted to go, and this was the condition he had set. He was not going to let her get hurt. Again. Never again would he allow his own weakness to prevent him from protecting her.
From his shoulder, his BD-unit droid, Biddy, chirped derisively.
And what if something were to happen to you? What about Kirra?
Marick gave the little droid a look that conveyed the unspoken challenge of letting anything try and prevent him returning home to his daughter.
The Master wore his tailored robes, which were now simply a white armorweave long-sleeve shirt and dark armorweave fatigues tucked into black boots. His shaed hung around his shoulders but did little to conceal the twin cylindrical lightsaber hilts on his belt. He also carried two pieces of thin beskar that could, when attached together, form a full spear. The alloy was painted a matte black and blended in more or less with his cloak.
The Arcanist idly twirled a throwing knife between his fingers as he looked around. He took note of the entrances and exits already, and sized up the patrons. One caught his eye, a Mirilan with dark hair and streaks of obvious pink dye. Vez. Never met them, but had read their file while heading the Inquisitorius.
“Do you know what we’re waiting on?” he asked calmly towards Socorra.
I hate Dromond Kaas, Turel thought as he returned from the lavatory. The humidity and ambient dark side aura weighed on him. The Jedi felt Marick’s steely gaze catch him as he returned to his seat at the bar.
Well, things just got interesting.
The Sentinel made a quick scan of the room with trained subtlety and made mental note of who else had responded to this little call to adventure. Some faces he recognized, some he did not.
Marick noticed Turel’s slight shift in posture, faint as it might have been, as a reaction to being made aware of Marick being present.
Thinking of Kirra and Atyiru, Marick raised one hand up at his side and then rotated his wrist back and forth a bit in a tight wave towards the “retired” High Councilor. His features, otherwise, remained carefully blank.
The woman peered around the cantina as well, her one intense, arctic eye landing in the usual areas as her mentor’s did, noting everything down to the smallest detail.
“Organizers supposed to meet here. Notice said “Sith Ruins” and I was sold. After the last one…”
Socorra trailed off as she perfectly recalled being locked inside a dark side labyrinth for days, alone with Timeros. Marick had taken Atyiru on some other mission instead and left her with him. Something soul-shattering had happened in that temple with the Erinos and Entar and the woman had not been the same since.
In this confusing, disorienting post-coma the Sith was hoping to relive it and Dromund Kaas was already not disappointing; the planet felt familiar, warm, and inviting, unlike anything felt since she had awakened. It felt like the past, where Socorra wanted to go.
Although the humidity sucked.
She smiled for the Jedi in the room.
Felaeon sipped slowly at the ever bitter tea, gritting through her teeth as she swallowed the liquid with a mild disdain. Her Dashade companion grunted and motioned a directed glance at the people who gathered while it was near her table or just within the tavern.
Right. I suppose I should attempt to enjoy something more appealing at this time. Go fetch them.
The Dashade with a half annoyed yet tolerant grunt gave a nod, moving his body from her side to walk to each of the arrivals. As the creature stepped closer to them all, a series of grunting and growls reverberated from his throat until he finally spoke out. Each word grind against his vocal cords.
“You wanted at mistress table.”
The Dashade gave each person little time to respond or question until he moved between each of them as he deduced their abilities with a hard cold stare. Once he addressed each person, the Dashade returned to Felaeon’s side and awaited the others to gather before her.
Maricks reply was in his usual, calm monotone, but the aristocratic lilt of his Hapan accent lingered. “Charmed.”
He glanced at Socorra, then over towards Turel, Vex, seeing if any of them cared to take point.
Shuttle not far, Socorra telepathically replied to his comment, for one last try. The woman began to move towards the ‘Mistress’, taking neither point nor being at the whim of another. Enough time to still go back to your family.
You’re here. I’m here, his response was non-verbal, but through their bond through the Force, the message was clear without words.
She would notice and note a medium-sized hooded and cloaked figure off to some shaded corner. The Sephi seemed young as she sipped at her drink yet her cloak suggested she may be of the general populace.
Granted, she sat at a table alone while tapping away at a datapad held low like a child playing some game and didn’t want to be caught by their parents.
‘They’re here.’
The message came through on Appius’ datapad as clear as day, and he had no intention of waiting for an invitation.
Still, why did it have to be a bar of all places? Mos Kenny still left a sore spot in his psyche after the show he’d put on in front of so many within the Brotherhood.
A fact his companion for this venture had delighted in pointing out to him whenever the opportunity presented itself.
The two heavily armoured Mandalorians walked into the bar like they were the start of a terrible joke. Heads turned, voices shushed, but none said a word to them. After a moment, the chatter began again, leaving Appius to talk with his brother.
“Ok, so, find Dasha, and see what the situation is. And for the love of everything, Darrio, don’t do anything to draw any unwanted attention. Basically, dont do anything stupid,” Appius ordered, though in a hush tone.
“So don’t do anything you would do?” the older Mandalorian retorted back as Appius’ visor turned towards him. Darrio couldn’t tell through the visor, but somehow, he just knew Appius was glaring at him.
“Yes, like me,” Appius confirmed, taking special note of the presenceof other Force Users in the room with them. Oddanites and Arconas especially.
The two began to make their way towards the bar, with Appius hoping to get a better vantage point from there.
“I still don’t understand why you had to bring me along for this,” Darrio suddenly piped up.
“I’m keeping an eye on you,” Appius answered bluntly. “From the reports I’ve gotten, you’ve been…”
“An asshole?” the Weapon Specialist interjected.
“I was going to say ‘difficult’, but sure, why not? That works too.”
The two Mandalorians arrived at the bar, with Darrio removing his helmet and placing it upon the counter. The bags under his eyes hadn’t receded since Appius last saw him only weeks prior.
The study of the room led to very few patrons that seemed remotely qualified for a jaunt in the jungle. A Sephi in the far back, dark corner caught her eye as did a Mirialan. Socorra had already seen Turel. But then the Devil himself walked in, with a second Mando at his side, an old grizzled vet by the look of it.
A smirk formed on her ruby lips and the Erinos stopped just short of the table destination, fully turning to the Taldryan.
“Appius! Where the entertainment? I would half expect you to stroll in slinging lightning.”
Kriff it all…
Barely a few minutes inside the venue and already someone had brought up Mos Kenny. Still, at least it was someone Appius could converse with without things escalating.
“Sup, Socorra! Sorry to disappoint, but if I did that every time, I’d be far too predictable,” Appius half-jokiny answered.
Darrio stared at the woman that had arrived, looking up and down whilst taking in her figure as a small smile crept onto his face… that is until one of the other patrons bumped into him.
“Watch what you are doing, Mando!” the Patron jeered.
Darrio didn’t respond with words, but with extended a middle finger in the Patron’s general direction.
Dasha’s ears twitched and she peeked out. Seeing Darrio, she grinned, about to act on a grudge from their first meeting with him. She tapped a button to see if some glitter bombs she had hidden in his heavy armor would go off with a loud pop…. if he hasn’t found them already.
Marick, hovering idly behind Socorra, studied the Taldryan Consul and his cohort, made notes of their armor and armaments, and then shifted his attention back towards the rest of the occupants of the Cantina.
It all happened so fast. One second Darrio was about to make his move on Socorra when a sudden pop was felt within his armor. Immediately, a colourful mixture of sparkles and glitter rained out of every crevice, and Appius had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter. Hey! He wasn’t the target for a change! He didn’t know what Darrio had done to earn Dasha’s ire, but it was certainly funny.
That was until the Arcanist felt the shift within his older brother. Darfio went from confusion, to shock, to unrestricted fury in a matter of seconds. The bar laughed at his misfortune with the loudest being the Patron who had bumped into him seconds prior.
Darrio quickly rose from his seat and grabbed the patron from the collar of his shirt. The older Mandalorian’s eyes were filled with an anger that demanded sustenance as he slammed the Devaronian’s face into the bar counter with enough force to cause blood to come out of the poor red-skinned man’s nostrils. From there, Appius’ brother retrieved a small spherical device from his waist, shocking the entire bar.
“Do you know what this is? It’s a thermal detonator,” Darrio seethed. “If I hear one more laugh out of you, I’ll gonna make you eat it and watch your entrails be blown all over this bar!”
Snap-Hiss!
The hum of an emerald-coloured lightsaber drew Darrio’s attention to his younger brother amidst the Devaronian’s whimpering.
“Darrio, put the detonator away. Now,” Appius demanded, holding the lightsaber towards the Weapon Specialists head as if to make his statement clear.
“Su'cuy,” she nodded to both of the male Humans, eyeing the one as much if not more than he eyed her, even with her one eye. “Perhaps EMP for droid next time, sah? Just not with Ruka around. You get much more than lecture.”
From his shoulder, Biddy chirped, clearly concerned as he usually was. Marick glanced at the BD-unit and shrugged slightly. The Master didn’t move towards any of his weapons, but he wouldn’t have needed to.
For after a few moments, Darrio sighed heavily and relented, placing the thermal detonator back in the satchel it came from. The older Mandalorian let tbe Patron go, and the Devaronian immediately scrambled away to lock his wounds. Appius’ lightsaber blade retracted back into its hilt as the Consul placed the weapon back on his waist.
“Good choice. What did I say about… what are you doing?” Appius inquired to Darrio, who had signalled for a glass.
“Getting a drink,” Darrio answered bluntly.
“You had one before we left,” Appius scolded.
“Yes, but if I’m going to spend the next few hours with you and this merry band of misfits, then I’m going to need something stronger.”
Deciding to ignore his glitter-stricken brother for the moment, Appius turned his attention back to Socorra.
“So, judging by the group of Arconans and Oddanites, I assume you are all here for the same thing,” Appius said. He then took note of Dasha hiding in the corner and beckoned her ove, much to Darrio’s chargrin.
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Dasha put away her datapad and picked up her drink before casually walking on over. A small happy hop in her step and grin on the corner of her lips as she took to the side opposite of Darrio.
Socorra smiled bittersweetly at the antics. “Kark you. Making me miss my brothers.” She sighed deeply but waved it off, though the perfect memories of all of the Erinos boys lingered, especially Teroch.
“What you here for? I saw something about Sith ruins, no bother reading the rest.” While absolutely not true at all, Socks wanted to make Marick squirm at the thought of complete disinformation and surprise.
Vez muttered something about Mandalorian overcompensation as she followed Turel and the Dashade back to ‘mistress table,’ which was, incidentally, she name she was going to associate with the Echani woman going forward.
She didn’t know any of these people—not that her memory counted for much—but Vez could already tell this was going to be the classic Brotherhood experience. At least with Glitterfett the Mando Bro tagging along, she probably wasn’t going to be the reason things devolved into mindless violence this time.
A green shimmering to blue and purple armoured woman stepped inside and glanced around. Her long sniper rifle hung easily over her back as she stepped further. She could feel various Force signals in the area, which made her frown slightly. Usually that didn’t bode well when different alignments got together.
It didn’t take her long to spot Appius and a fool who probably ran into either a trap of Aylin or Dasha. Shaking her head slowly she stepped towards them.
“Seems they are nowhere safe from their pranks,” the Sephi said to Appius
“Nobody is ever safe. I’ve had a lot of experience in the matter…” Appius replied as he glanced to his apprentice, who was still beaming from ear to ear. “Regardless, I think Introductions are in order. Circe, this is Socorra. Socorra, meet Circe, and to answer your question, the Sith ruins are of particular interest to us. Rumors has from the locals it holds knowledge not seen for thousands of years, and people investigating it have gone missing. Assuming anything valuable’s not been picked apart by snugglers, of course. Perhaps we could work out a deal?”
As Appius glanced over to the table where other Brotherhood menbers had gathered whilst Darrio scoffed at the bar.
“Don’t see why you don’t just head down there and take it yourself. Frakk everyone else,” the older Mandalorian said as he downed his drink.
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“Seems we have some sunny fellow here as well…” Circe said as she looked over to a glittery Darrio. “But he does have a point… Why aren’t we getting it ourselves?”
“Because its a Sith ruin, and I guarantee it won’t be that easy. Whatever happened to the archaeologists could happen to us if we are not careful, and information on the place is scarce to non-existent,” Appius answered.
“Well met,” Socks politely nodded to the others. For a second she thought of not introducing Marick at all, and just watching him wreck the place while everyone questioned who the kark he was.
Unfortunately Socorra was all too old school Arconan; she hated introductions but they must be made. However, since the Taldryans were all going on an informal first-name basis… the woman turned to gesture to her well-esteemed companion, mentor, and everything in between:
“Marick.”
Dasha kept an eye on her latest victim as she listened to the conversation quietly. Her ears flicked here and there as she eavesdropped on various conversations at the same time. The flicking may also seem like a bit of a nervous tick to most others.
The smaller Sephi just seems happy where she is, but her belly was doing flips when she remembered why they were here. Her memory flashed back to when a scientist tried to save her at the Jedi ruins. Knowing full well Sith have no true moral boundaries, ahe was glad about having extra help.
The older Sephi glanced curiously at the younger one. Not only did she felt nervous through the Force to her, but her whole demeanour also showed it. She would keep an eye on her to make sure she would be save, just like she would keep an eye on Appius.
To her it had been a while since she went on her first relic hunt, she remembered the thrill of it and the dangers it brought. But ultimately it was rewarding when the mission was a success and a great story to tell to people interested in it.
“Marick Tyris Arconae, former Voice of the Brotherhood. A pleasure to meet you,” Appius greeted, extending his hand out. Might as well make a good first impression, after all..
“Just Marick,” the retired Councilor corrected calmly. He nodded politely to the others, but his too-blue eyes continued to track idly on everyone and everything in his sphere of awareness. He kept his hands relaxed at his sides. From his shoulder, his BD-unit tittered.
“Biddy,” Marick pointed with a single finger at the small droid by way of introduction.
“Told you,” the other retired Councilor smirked. “Appi and I are on a first name basis. I dig it.” Socorra raised her arm and offered a fist bump like she would have for her long gone Mando brothers.
On instinct, Appi returned the fist bump, hearing a snort come from Darrio behind them.
Although a genuine gesture of hers, the woman never took her eye off of the man’s hands, completely aware of his weapons. “Both chastised by Ruka, is like having been through war together.”
Vez jammed her cigarra into an ash tray on one of the tables as she sauntered over, following Turel. She sized up the competition—yeah yeah, Jedi were cooperative and non-competitive, blah blah—who were all chummy as though they didn’t spend approximately 80% of their time trying to shove hot plasma down each other’s throats. Old Guy and Fist Bumper looked way too at ease, so they were probably the dangerous ones. Mando Bro #1 had a full posse of lithe young women (granted, the Sephi could be anywhere between 19 and 900 for all Vez could tell) loitering behind him, which was usually the sign of a poser. She was completely not envious of him.
“So, who wants to rob some graves?”
“Finally! Someone who gets to the damn point!” Appius cheered, blissfully unaware of Vez’s immediate thought process. “So, we should probably start with what we all know thud far. Dasha, would you mind sharing what you’ve uncovered on that little datapad of yours?”
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“Well good of you all to be here now after responding to my request,” the Echani woman spoke up, curiously studying each patron with intrigue for their histories. She considered each of their personalities, leaned forward, and neatly placed a singular data pad which she activated.
“You all received my request and came at the possibility of reward or other gains, but all the information you may need and is obtainable at this moment lays here within this.” Her gentle nudge of her finger graced the side of the tech, pressing it across the table to the others.
“For a quick and easy summary, I’ll tell you what I know so far. One moment. This is not the delicate version I normally enjoy but it is… tolerable.” She paused as she poured a new glass of milk-tea from her warmed kettle. Her lips laid just on the edge of the container as she portrayed the dignified stern form of class.
“Doctor Oscaalv was a brilliant archeologist who has sadly now gone missing after a cave-in within an intimidating canyon blocked the only entrance and exit to traverse within. I need you to go to this canyon,” she tapped the data pad to life and moved towards a large map of the area. “And rescue this man. If you do not find him or his research then no payment. Find either and you will be paid.” She moved her fingers again to find the image of Doctor Oscaalv, presenting his most recent photo.
“This man was on the brink of a discovery and there is something hidden underneath the surface.”
(Message deleted)
The Taldryan Consul gazed at the man through his visor, looking back to his older brother who nodded back to him, planting the man’s image to his memory as best as he could.
“So, it’s a simple retrieval mission. I have three questions,” Appius said. “Firstly, do we know what caused the cave-in? Secondly, do we know anything about any potential threats in the area? Information is crucial for situations like these. Lastly, do you have anything the Doctor was particularly attatched too? A piece of clothing, jewelry… a sample of his hair? Anything like that?”
Vez leaned in closer to her master. “Should I be collecting hair?” she whispered to Turel. “That wasn’t in the syllabus.”
“I have a fourth question,” Darrio suddenly interjected. “What was this doctor up to that’s so kriffin’ important anyways?”
“Probably some important artifacts, seeing were we are supposed to go,” Circe added with a shrug, making her armour shimmer in the light
The Master Arcanist in attendence turned his head towards the Taldryan Consul. His focus honed in on the request, glacial eyes shifting back towards the ‘client’. He remained quiet otherwise.
“Oh to Kriff with this,” Darrio said, rising from his seat. He retrieved the Westar blasters attatched to his hip and pointed it at the informants face. “Speak, or I pull the trigger.”
Appius could have banged his head against the nearest wall at his older brother’s act of brashness. Mandabro number one clearly didn’t get the memo that they needed to be tactful, especially in front of it her members if the Brotherhood.
“Darrio, put that blaster away before I disable it permanently,” the Taldryan Consul threatened.
The Dashade growled as he stepped forward towards the impatient instigator while Felaeon calmly without a second glance up from her tea took another stip. She then placed the cup down and lightly caress with a press of her fingers on the Dashade’s hand.
“I understand the question is important for you,” she spoke plainly with a finishing smirk as her eyes sized up Darrio. “The doctor is researching incredibly important medicines as well as experimental treatments for the needy and sick. His research is important for a separate client who is requesting through me, while my interests are more personal.”
She only pursed her lips together which she followed this up with a stare upwards at the Dashade companion. He understood the intent and withdrew his anger to a relaxed composed stance beside her.
“Does that answer enough of your question for you to now leave to complete this task?”
“I’m satisfied for now,” Appius answered, glancing to his brother. “Right, Darrio?”
It took a few seconds, but the older, glitter stricken Mandalorian relented and holsters his blaster back onto his waist.
“Excellent!” Appius continued, clasping his hands together excitedly. “In that case, our first stop is the temple itself. You all coming?” <@189568236201705472> <@141239709291511808> <@77213354619318272> <@417336769181122562> <@185939710005215232> <@371402534973341696>
“I was wondering when you were going to ask that,” the Elder sephi remarked, “of course I’m coming along, why else would I be here?”
Dasha tucked away whatever she was doing and nodded, “Ready!”
“An article or something from the researchers person would help make tracking easier,” the Hapan spoke calmly but his voice didn’t need to cary to be heard.
He otherwise looked to Socorra and gestured for her to take point.
Following up with the Elder, she coolly regarded the organizers with one arctic eye. “Any item at all left behind may shed light on what we may find there. It needn’t be theirs.”
Vez shrugged. She’d certainly had worse ideas than following Mando-mommy for a little graverobbing-cum-rescue. “This cantina isn’t worth hanging around in, anyway.”
Felaeon pondered for a few seconds upon what she may have left from the failed exhibition and looked to her Dashade. “Here”, she spoke calmly and sipped her tea once more as her companion pulled from a side bag a seemingly rusted bit of metal. The metal piece was a chipped bronze end of what one would assume was some bladed weapon. Old. Very old. There is writing just on the inner edges which encircle the edge but only noticed in the flickers of light as it is rolled back and forth.
“This was one of the items found in the body of a fellow researcher that happened to make it outside of the cave. They were dead before anyone could arrive, but it strangely appears there are some markings.” The Echani shrugged with a soft sigh, placing the glass on the table before she folded her hands into themselves.
“As far as I can tell, it appears to be a runic language that is meant more in ritual or some kind of enchantment of the blade. The actual words I am lost on.”
Socorra looked to Marick for a second and then back to the blade. She had not expected an actual artifact to examine and was slightly hesitant in handling it. Eventually the Sith reached out with a burn scarred hand and lightly caressed the markings, attempting to read them as well as view through the Force what the relic had to offer.
As she caressed the artifact, Socorra could feel a sense of the residual Force embedded within as a gentle yet striking insertion of imagery bled into her mind. The striking images of the aforementioned Doctor Oscaalv cascaded with misty shadows of metallic droids which stood around him. His words echoed as he spoke of a large set of underground ruins with pools of strange glowing liquid. His words distort while he continues to rotate the chipped end of runic blade as the sound of blaster rounds hitting the droids near drowned out the sound of his voice. Darkness until the sounds of feet pounding against the gravel and ground let Socorra know this was some time later. The vision fades away but leaves a lasting impression.
Darrio had finished getting over his current glittery predicament, walking over, he waved a hand in front of Socorra’s face.
“Hey, you there?”
“Darrio!” Appius scolded. “I’m sorry about him.”
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“Yes, Sparkles, I am here,” Socorra replied, narrowing her lone eye. If she hadn’t been so busy concentrating…
“The Doctor mentioned a set of underground ruins prior to him and his droids coming under attack.”
“That’s great but do we have any more on the whole ‘coming under attack’ thing?” Vez asked
“Several blaster shots, possibly dual wielding or several entities. Nothing else helpful on circumstance. Doctor mentioned strange pools in ruins before blaster fire. I think we have all information we get.”
“Well, that’s just cheery.” The Mirialan looked around, surveying her odd mix of companions. “So who wants to go for a dip and/or get shot at? Sparkles?”
“I’m game,” Darrio said. “I need something good to kill.”
“Darrio, for crying out loud…” Appius pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, we are in.”
A wordless glance to Darrio and her eye was back to the blade before handing it back to the Echani. “I’m in, let’s go.”
Vez downed the rest of her drink in one motion, not bothering to disguise the look of disgust on her face at the taste. “I need a cigarra anyway.” The Mirialan started towards the door.
“Ditto,” Socks replied and trailed the woman.
“Frakking finally…” Darrio was about to follow Vez when Appius grabbed his arm.
“Behave.”
The order was simple, but illicited a fiery temperament in Darrio.
“Frakk off, Appius,” Darrio said.
“I’m serious,” Appius continued. “There are representatives from Arcona, Taldryan, and Odan-Urr amongst us. Do anything to upset relations, and you will be punished for it.”
Darrio got into his face. “Is that a threat?”
“Not a threat,” Appius answered calmly. “A promise. Come on, vod. They are getting away.”
Vez glanced back over her shoulder at the two Mandalorians having their hushed, grunting conversation. She snorted and said to Socorra, “Think they’re fighting over you or me?”
She pulled out two cigarras, both expertly rolled and smuggled from her homeworld, and offered one. “Yes.”
“I think they might be barking up the wrong tree then,” Vez said, maintaining eye contact as she leaned in to take the cigarra in her lips. She flicked the flamethrower pilot light on her vambrace on and lit hers before offering her arm to Socorra.
With nimble fingers Socorra delicately rolled the foot of the cigarra above Vez’s flame in slow, practiced twists. She stood back up and finally took a long and passionate, satisfying draw. The woman marveled at the burning cherry for a moment, letting the smoke wisp and curl out of her mouth before blowing the cherry even hotter.
“Are they now.”
The Mirialan’s arm and jaw slowly dropped in unison before she recovered herself. I cannot kriffing believe that worked. “I’m Vez,” she blurted out.
A few meters behind her, Turel winced, not sure if he was cringing more at the unwelcome mental image of his padawan hooking up with an Arconan Sith or at her staggering lack of chill. Somewhere, he thought, Vorsa is laughing at me.
A tiny smirk lit the corner of her ruby lips. “Hi, I Socks.” She glanced back at the brothers with her one pale arctic eye. “Mostly harmless. Adorable, endearing, makes me miss brothers.”
“Well, hello, mesh'la,” Darrio perked up upon examining Socks body again. His imagination ran wild with the possibilities. “I’d join the dark side if you were there.”
“Darrio… for kriff’s sake. Right, we are going. Move, now.”
Appius pushed his brother towards the doorway. Before the two could exit, Darrio looked, at watching the struggle, and gave her a wink.
“Well, hello there. Did it hurt when you fell from Cloud City?”
“DARRIO!!!”
With that final protest from Appius, they both disappeared from sight.
“Oh yeah,” Vez muttered. “I am definitely slicing his datapad and dumping all his druk all over the holonet.”
“Ha. Send to me first, I see if we make few credits from that druk.”
“I like you already,” the Mirialan smirked
As the group parted from the table and began to walk away from her, Felaeon stood and cautiously yet hurriedly walked behind them as her Dashade companion followed studiously. Once she felt she was close enough to catch their attention before they were out of earshot completely, she took this moment to speak much firmer in her gratitude and expectations.
“Well,” the Echani woman spoke plain yet the very slight amounts of unnerved feelings could be heard within her tone. “I suppose you will be all on your way to find these ruins of which I am glad for your enthusiasm, but if you could at all bring something of the doctor’s back, I would be eternally thankful.”